


Step by Step

by draiochtaa



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aftercare, Dacryphilia, Dom Sam Winchester, Dom/sub, Flogging, M/M, Painplay, S&M, Sibling Incest, Spanking, Sub Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-29
Updated: 2018-08-29
Packaged: 2019-07-04 00:02:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15829629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/draiochtaa/pseuds/draiochtaa
Summary: The first time Sam had spanked him, he used his bare hands and Dean actually cried. Not from pain, but because it just felt sogoodthat he didn't know what else to do.Basically, Sam and Dean's journey into the kinkier side of sex.





	Step by Step

**Author's Note:**

> This is the BDSM/Dacryphilia idea that I was talking about in my last fic, After All These Years. It's not necessarily a sequel, but it can be read as one. 
> 
> I didn't entirely look this over but I usually do a pretty good job of fixing typos as I'm writing so it should hopefully be readable. If you see any mistakes just let me know.

Dean's always been a bit submissive, but something about Sam's strong presence just made him want to see how far he could push it. He'd started by asking if Sam could tie him down sometime, and his little brother had been slightly confused at the request. 

"We get tied down by monsters all the time, and now you want to do it just because you think it'd be 'fun'?" 

"I thought we agreed on no judgement, Sammy," Dean had fake-whined in response. 

It didn't take much convincing after that. Sam had simply handcuffed him to a chair and sucked him off, but on that day something deep inside of him made its way to the forefront of his mind. Something feral; an itch that made him want things he'd never dreamed of before. And that was the start of their slow descent into some deep BDSM rabbit hole that they probably weren't getting out of any time soon. 

They'd gotten deeply into the dom/sub orientation pretty quickly; Sam had strict rules and he expected Dean to follow them. If he ever moved from a position or began to slouch, Sam would manhandle him back into place and growl, "Stay." He was almost always met with an obedient mumble of "Yes, Sir." 

If Dean ever spoke without permission, Sam gave him a sharp slap to the face. This was their first real experience with pain play, and when Sam noticed that Dean had started mouthing off on purpose to get that sting back in his cheek, he began to realize just how far this could go. 

Sam was surprisingly gentle outside of their scenes, and for this reason he was understandably hesitant to go much further into the S&M side of the spectrum. Dean had insisted that he wanted this, and he had also promised to use their safeword if anything ever went too far, and again Sam agreed after a little coaxing. 

The first time Sam had spanked him, he used his bare hands and Dean actually cried. Not from pain, but because it just felt so _good_ that he didn't know what else to do. Sam, obviously, stopped as soon as he figured out what was going on. It took a lot of convincing this time, but once Sam trusted that the tears weren't a bad sign, they did it again. After a while, they incorporated it into a few of their scenes. 

Of course, though, slutty little Dean just couldn't get enough, and he eventually talked Sam into letting him pick out a riding crop. He had felt a little bad for Sam's hand, so he assumed that this would solve that problem. What he hadn't assumed, though, was how much better it would feel against his bare ass. It always left him feeling thoroughly used, and it left behind a pleasant burn that he could feel every time he sat down for the next day or so. Eventually, though, he got used to it, and the itch came back. He needed more. 

This time, he took the initiative himself and walked into Sam's room one day with a discreet-looking box in his hand. 

"What's up?" Sam mumbled in greeting, looking away from the television and instinctively reaching for the remote to turn down the volume. His gaze landed on the box and stayed there as Dean made his way over to the bed. He took a seat next to Sam and simply handed him the box, and Sam switched the TV off entirely before taking it. 

"I got something," was all Dean said. He had that same cautious look on his face that he'd had whenever he brought up a new kink of his, and Sam was suddenly very afraid to open this box. 

He eyed Dean suspiciously as he removed the lid, and looking inside, he was presented with a simple but menacing-looking black flogger. He looked pointedly back at Dean, and the latter bit his lip. 

"Dean, you _know_ how I feel about this." Sam spoke almost gently, but there was still an accusatory tone in his voice. 

"I know, but..." Dean trailed off, not quite sure how to make his point. Sam put the box down in his lap and took the flogger into his hand. The handle at least seemed sturdy enough, and as he ran the tails through his hand he noticed that Dean was watching him intently. 

"Why do you do this to yourself?" Sam mumbled, genuinely curious. Dean was taken aback by the question.

"Uh... well, it's just... good. I guess. I don't know," he fumbled. He pulled his legs up onto the bed and folded them under himself. "Look, this is something that I really wanna try. I know you don't think it's a great idea, but I like it, and I want more." 

Sam ran the tails of the flogger through his fingers again as he stared pensively at some imaginary object over Dean's shoulder. 

"I don't want you in subspace when we try this out," he said after a few moments, an air of finality to his voice as his eyes locked on Dean's. "You get too far gone, and I can't talk to you anymore." 

Dean stared dumbly back, shocked that Sam was already on board with this. Usually, it took a lot more persuading. 

"Okay," he stuttered out, looking back down at the flogger in Sam's hands with a renewed interest. He wasn't quite sure how realistic Sam's request was, but he had gotten what he wanted, and he'd be damned if he was going to mention anything that would change the taller man's mind. "We won't do a scene, then." 

Sam still looked hesitant, but there was something else in his eyes now, too. Dean knew it well; that look that said _I hope you know what you're doing._

And that's how they ended up doing it a few hours later. Sam had wanted to wait a day or two, but Dean insisted that he couldn't -- seeing the authority in Sam's eyes as he held their new toy had awakened that itch, and he didn't think he'd make it until tomorrow. 

Sam had laid out a towel on the bed, because he knew that Dean usually got really into this and he didn't feel like having to wash the sheets. Dean had undressed himself, and was sitting on his knees on the towel with his back toward Sam, waiting until his brother was ready. Sam had taken his shirt off, under Dean's request. 

Sam wasn't doing this against his will. He was simply always worried that Dean might be asking for more than he could handle. He didn't want to go too far and hurt him. But once he knew that Dean was okay, that he could take this, Sam would have no problem at all with doing it again. He was overprotective, but he normally enjoyed their sessions just as much as Dean did. It was only a matter of getting into the right mindset. After a few calming breaths, he decided that he was ready. 

"Up." Sam's voice startled Dean, but his tone was dripping with so much authority that it sent a chill down his spine. He rose to his hands and knees, trying hard not to squirm. After a moment, though, there was no movement from behind him and Dean spread his knees a little wider in invitation. 

Finally, he heard shuffling, and soon the tails of the flogger were teasing between his legs at his exposed balls. 

"I don't have as much control over this thing," Sam muttered, and Dean immediately knew what he was talking about. Supporting his weight with one forearm, he rolled his eyes and reached down to cup himself. It felt ridiculous and a little embarrassing, but he knew that Sam was probably right. He wasn't quite ready to go _that_ far. 

Dean felt the soft, gentle tickle of the thick threads as they moved to his right ass cheek and tapped him there a few times in warning before disappearing completely. Dean knew what that meant. The next fleeting seconds played in slow motion and Dean could hear his heart pounding in his chest as the anticipation flooded through him. 

The first dull _thwack_ rang loud in Dean's ears and he hummed a bit at the impact, but it wasn't nearly hard enough. 

"That okay?" Came Sam's voice.

"Harder," he mumbled. 

Sam tried again, in the same spot. It might've been only about a quarter of his full strength, but at least it was harder than the first one. 

"I'm not gonna break, you know," he heard himself snap. He heard an amused exhale from Sam, but that was the only response he got. 

Other than the flogger coming down noticeably harder on his other cheek. 

Dean grunted in surprise, and under the sharp sting he felt a nauseatingly strong wave of arousal run straight to his dick. His head dropped between his shoulders and he arched his back in a silent plea for more. It had been exactly what he was looking for, and the satisfaction of finally having it was enough to cause his eyes to well up with tears. 

"You good?" Sam's voice sounded far away, muffled through all the blood rushing in Dean's ears. 

"Mhmm." His dick was almost fully hard now, laying hot and heavy against his wrist. 

That was all Sam needed before he really got started. 

Every strike made Dean's vision cloudier as the tears in his eyes threatened to spill over. He buried his face in the towel and let them fall, giving in to the comforting sensation as he listened to the loud thwacking of the flogger against his flesh. The pain was sharp and hot, and after a while Dean's body started to instinctively jerk away from the sensation, but he kept putting it right back. It felt too good to stop now. He was probably being really loud, but he couldn't really focus his ears enough to know for sure. 

By the time Sam stops, an indecipherable amount of time later, Dean's knees have wandered much further apart and his cock is leaking steadily in desperation. He whines at the sudden silence, but his brain faintly registers that there's another hand nudging his own out of the way to get at his dick. He complies, and he buries his face in his arms as Sam strokes him quickly and efficiently. It takes an embarrassingly short amount of time before Dean's cumming with a groan. His whole body locks up, causing him to feel the throbbing in his sore ass and thighs, which coaxes a sob out of him as the orgasm refuses to fade for several blissful seconds. 

When his muscles finally relax, Dean realizes that he's shaking, and Sam climbs onto the bed next to him to help him lay down on his side. Sam balls the towel up and throws it carelessly on the floor. He'll get it later. He's already done massaging some lotion into Dean's raw skin when he hears a shaky breath that he knows all too well. He sets the bottle down and wipes his hands on the bedsheets. 

"Dean, are you crying?" 

When Dean doesn't answer, Sam grabs his chin and gently pulls his face away from the sheets. Sure enough, his eyes are red and puffy and he looks miserable. 

"Why didn't you tell me?" Sam's voice is quiet and full of concern. 

"S'not a big deal," he sniffs. "You know that." He wipes his face with the back of his hand. 

Sam did know that, but it still caught him by surprise sometimes. 

"Are you okay?" He says it absentmindedly like he already knows the answer, because he does. 

"Mhmm. I just got into it, that's all." Dean's tearful grin is one that Sam has seen many times, and something twists around in his stomach as he finally realizes the bulge in his own pants. 

Once he had gotten used to the crying, he had reluctantly admitted to Dean that it actually turned him on quite a bit. Sam still felt a little bad though, because he always found something to feel bad about, and he used his thumb to wipe a stray tear off of Dean's cheek. 

"Need some help with that?" Dean muttered playfully, his hands finding Sam's thigh and his mouth suddenly very close to Sam's neck. 

"It's not _urgent_..." Sam replied truthfully, because it wasn't. He didn't necessarily _have_ to get off; he'd have no problem with ignoring it completely. But he also knew that Dean would do it anyway, and he wasn't exactly opposed to that either. 

Dean only rolled his eyes and pushed Sam back until his head hit the pillows. He slid Sam's sweatpants down, and chuckled upon realizing that he had gone commando. Sam grinned, but neither of them said anything out loud because Dean was already licking eagerly at the head of Sam's cock. 

Sam focused on the ceiling for a while, not sure if he'd be able to handle looking at the dried tears on Dean's face without losing control. That seemed to be exactly what Dean wanted, though, because he was moving so quickly that he gagged a couple times as fresh tears welled up in his eyes. Sam knew he was doing it on purpose. He was already so overwhelmed with the feeling of Dean's throat around him that he figured he might as well glance down, and he was met with those big green eyes that always made him feel weak whether they were all red and puffy or not. His toes curled, and he brought one hand to rest on the back of Dean's head. Everything was so intense and enthusiastic that Sam found himself panting within a couple minutes. 

"Fuck," Sam muttered. He had meant to say something more helpful than that, but he couldn't really remember how to say much else. Dean was still looking directly at him, and Sam ran his thumb through the tear tracks on his cheek. He could never quite figure out why he was so turned on by it, but he definitely groaned when he felt just how much Dean had been crying. That, and he was already so close that he could feel himself starting to tense up. There was just something about seeing Dean let go so completely that made him think he must be pretty special for his brother to trust him that much. 

Dean gently fondled Sam's balls in encouragement, and the taller man came with a gasp. His hips bucked a few times, but Dean stayed stubbornly in place and swallowed every drop. It wasn't until Sam kneed him gently in the ribcage that Dean finally relented. With a grin, Dean crawled wordlessly forward and cuddled into Sam's shoulder. 

"You're an idiot," Sam muttered fondly, pressing a kiss to the top of Dean's head. These moments were Sam's favorite; Dean would be all tired and cuddly and he no longer cared about how needy he might have looked as he buried his face in Sam's chest like a kitten. 

"You love me," was Dean's muffled response. 

Sam couldn't argue with that. 

After a minute, Dean lifted his head to scrub at his eyes for a moment, sniffling almost grossly. 

"I'm a mess," he giggled, trying again to dry his face. Sam watched with amusement, but Dean looked a little annoyed, so after a minute he reached blindly at the floor, trying not to disturb the man lying entirely on top of him. His hand found the towel. 

"Here, use this," he offered helpfully, but Dean just made a face and knocked it out of Sam's hand. 

"I don't want your jizz towel!" He exclaimed, laughing stupidly at his own words. Sam rolled his eyes, but he was also grinning. Finally, he decided to just take his sweatpants the rest of the way off, which took quite a bit of maneuvering. Dean was still laughing when he took them to wipe his face with. 

Once Dean was satisfied enough, he threw Sam's pants onto the floor somewhere and buried his face in Sam's chest again, now much happier and observably very tired. They were both naked, though, and since the bunker was underground it usually got pretty cold despite having a massive heater, so they wiggled their way under the blankets once Sam had realized the goosebumps on Dean's arms. Dean was on his stomach like he normally would be whenever he was sore like he was now, and he was still laying exactly on top of Sam because that was also normal. Sam had stopped complaining about it years ago, deciding that the slight restriction to his breath was entirely worth it when Dean wrapped his arms around him. 

They didn't even have to say anything. They knew each other that well. They could usually even tell how the other was feeling with a single glance. Sometimes, they didn't really even _want_ to talk. Like now. Dean was only half awake, in his usual post-orgasm "nap mode," and Sam knew not to interfere. He didn't mind though, because the warmth of Dean's body against his and the sound of his gentle breathing was enough to put him to sleep too.


End file.
